


The Wheel

by Schemilix



Series: Blood and Gold [15]
Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Gen, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schemilix/pseuds/Schemilix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s alright. I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve cried a lot too," Ramza admits. "At a lot of things. Sometimes I cried without even knowing what I was crying about, there seemed so much to mourn at once. I cried because I was scared, too. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to succeed. I cried for some of our enemies. Milleuda… and Wiegraf. He didn’t deserve what he did to himself. I think maybe he could have helped us, in another life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wheel

Adrenaline carries her through the hellish maze as the worlds re-align. They live, more by miracle than skill. Sometimes she swears she sees ghosts in blue robes or a flash of red and gold, an ancient smile. She recognises the first. The second is a stranger to her, perhaps from another time entirely.

She isn’t concentrating on anything but survival. A warrior’s instinct overcomes doubt and fear. She makes leaps that a lion would shy from because it is what is needed.

So they live. They emerge from the wreckage of the monastery floor bruised, dusty and bleeding, but whole. Rapha and March clinging together, Cidolfus showing his age from the dust in his care-worn face. Ramza half carries the exhausted Alma, looking ready to be carried himself. Agrias stands tall with her hair loose. Mustadio holds his broken gun-hand gingerly but smiles stubbornly. All of them. People she could call friends. 

Relief gives way to reality before she can steel herself. Somehow the emptiness hits. 

”No, I’m… strong… like a lion…” she murmurs, feeling her hands shake. She leaves before they can see her cry, and before they can check her injuries.

Ramza moves to intercept her out of concern and feels Agrias’ hand across his chest.

”Leave her be,” she says gently. “She’s all alone in the world now.”

Ramza thinks about that. He thinks about all the friends here with him and his sister. He knows the wound of family lost all too well, but is he alone?

"I suppose she never bonded well with us," he admits.

Agrias nods but says, “Better than can be expected given that we were enemies of both her and her family.”

For a while they are both silent, listening to the hushed sounds of armour being taken off, whispers, bottles of salve and equipment knocking together, and wood being pushed aside.

"It’s not too late to fix that," Ramza says, and goes to help with the cleanup.

After leaving a while and Meliadoul has still not returned he goes to follow her. He picks his way through the monastery carefully. It seems to empty now, so sombre. There are still bloodstains. Some might be his. 

When he finds her she is sitting, with Ragnarok sheathed and tucked in her arms. With her head tipped back Ramza thinks she might be asleep and turns to let her rest before she says,

”I’m awake.” Her voice is hoarse with crying. Taking that as an invitation Ramza approaches, sitting a respectful distance from her and waiting for her to be ready to speak.

”I don’t know what I feel worse about,” she says. “That they’re gone… maybe I thought that… they could be saved… be my family again. Or maybe it just hurts to be such a fool.”

Ramza shakes his head. “You’re no fool. Nobody should have to mistrust their family.”

"I’m sorry Ramza. You’ve been through it too, haven’t you? With your brother." Meliadoul doesn’t look at him. She runs her fingers along the embossing in the leather of the scabbard thoughtfully. Perhaps she can even read what it says. "I must seem so selfish."

"It’s alright. I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve cried a lot too," Ramza admits. "At a lot of things. Sometimes I cried without even knowing what I was crying about, there seemed so much to mourn at once. I cried because I was scared, too. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to succeed. I cried for some of our enemies. Milleuda… and Wiegraf. He didn’t deserve what he did to himself. I think maybe he could have helped us, in another life."

”I… I cried for him, too. But then, he was my comrade. And my friend.” She sighs. “I thought him innocent when you killed him. I thought you misunderstood him, but now I know. You understood him better than most, I suppose. Did he always have those ghosts in his eyes?”

Ramza just says, “No.” 

”I… loved my father. I still love my father. I loved him even when he was that monster, because he was my father. Because I remember how I’d sit on his shoulders and… think I could see to Ordalia… he seemed so tall and I so small.” As she speaks she sets the blade that killed him down gently. “They were all my family. Cletienne and Barich and Loffrey as well. Barich cared for me when I was sick. Cletienne joined us so late he’s… like my brother… and Loffrey taught me the blade. He made sure I was alright when father was unkind to me. Perhaps he understood because father was so unkind to him. And they’re dead. I killed them.”

”You can share that burden,” Ramza says, venturing to rest a hand on her shoulder. She lets him. “We all killed a lot of people today. All of them were brave, all of them had their reasons. It’s my curse to see the good in everyone. Even now I don’t hate any of them.”

”Not even Barrington?” Meliadoul asks. Ramza considers for a moment.

”Hm, for him I will make an exception.”

Meliadoul laughs weakly. “Yes. I suppose we all have our exceptions.” They fall quiet and she says,

”Thank-you. For letting me be weak… for making it so I wasn’t alone.”

Ramza stands, feeling like his bones creak. He smiles and says, “Any time, ma’am.” 

She watches him return to his friends, managing a smile.


End file.
